


Chinese Takeout, Girls, and The One Who Is There For You

by sidekickjoey



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, People say some mean stuff when they're hurt, Peter just wants to get past his divorce, Reader Insert, You just want to make him okay again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidekickjoey/pseuds/sidekickjoey
Summary: You are on your way to spend time taking care of Peter after his divorce, like usual. However, when an unexpected visitor disrupts the state of things, what is said leads to some harsh words, sorrowful apologies, and new revelations. Starts out real angsty and then ends sweetly because Peter B. Parker deserves happy endings. Rated T for mentions of sex and some cursing.





	Chinese Takeout, Girls, and The One Who Is There For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first fic for Into The Spiderverse. It popped into my head last night after watching the movie and I just had to get it down on paper. Let me know what you think, and I hope you all enjoy it! :)

You rang the doorbell and sighed.

Going over to Peter’s place had become a sort of routine to you at this point. Ever since his split with MJ, he needed someone to watch out for him – someone to check up on him and make sure he was still breathing and didn’t have his hand stuck in a pickle jar or something. Given the fact you were his closest friend and probably his only after the divorce, it was almost a given that you would fall into this role of keeping watch. You did not mind, of course. Peter was your friend, and some of your best memories were filled with his stupid humor and adventurous stories from him out in Spider-Man’s world.

You just minded that you were watching him melt away before your very eyes.

As you stood and waited for him to open up his door, you pondered this. You knew that, ever since MJ left him, he started to let himself go. The Peter B. Parker you knew from when you were a tad bit younger was a strapping boy with taut abs and a pristine face. The Peter B. Parker you had grown accustomed to rarely could be seen without a five o’clock shadow, belly, and drooping eyes. His apartment had become a disaster zone, and no matter how many times you cleaned it for him, it always ended up full of dirty clothes and stale food the next time you appeared. He was losing it, and you hated to watch it happen.

The only thing that kept bringing you back was the promise of seeing him smile. You knew for a fact that he did not smile unless you were around. You did not have to see him always to know it is the truth. He tried for you, and you were perhaps the last person around he had the strength to try _for_. He did not have much to smile about, but when you walked in and greeted him with your same-ol’ “Whassup Spidey?” and a smile, he could not help but let one slip, no matter his mood that day. If you did not show up, when would he ever smile? Watching the door open before you, you could not help but wonder just how sad of a world it would be without his smile.

"Whassup Spidey?"

“{Y/N}," he said, struggling to give you that smile you knew and loved, "I didn’t expect you.”

Leaning against the door frame, you shrugged and held up a bag of takeout. “Yeah, well, I figured there’s only one man in this entire city who could help me finish all of this, so I just dropped by. Hope you’re hungry.”

Peter chewed at his lip, and you could immediately tell there was something he was not telling you. Something major, if his reluctance to let you in, his avoidance of your eyes, or his lack of comment about your food was any indication of it. Frowning, you leaned away from the door and set the food down.

“Is something wrong?”

He went to open his mouth, but before he could speak, someone else spoke for him. The very distinct laughter of a girl echoed behind him, shrill and bubbly. As if to make matters worse, the laughter carried until a very much unclothed bleach blonde trotted past your line of sight and looked at the back of Peter’s head. She called his name, and you felt your stomach sink.

Okay, so, you originally intended only to be the friend who checks up on Peter. You only wanted that purely platonic connection, and for a long time, you were content with that. Peter did not need anyone to love him romantically, not when the wounds from MJ still stung so vividly. He needed a friend to be there for him and making him happy again. You were happy to be that friend.

But, you would be lying if you said some feelings did not build within you. Taking care of Peter, seeing him rebuild – you grew attached to the man and all of his idiosyncrasies. Your face lit up when you saw his stupid ‘90s-era video game set, or when he trotted out of his room after a day of being Spider-Man with only the mask and the ugliest of sweatpants on. You _liked_ being around him. It was stupid of you to think that maybe he would like you back the same way, but you thought you at least had a shot. You were the one stable thing in his life, and you thought that that would maybe put you on a higher level to him. You thought that you were showing him love and that, one day when MJ did not pain him so much, he might reciprocate it.

That is, until you saw _her_.

“I-I can go-”

“Wait, {Y/N}-”

“No, no, you’re clearly occupied,” you pressed, handing him the takeout bag. You could see regret on his face as he took it, and his eyes hardly looked as bright as you liked them to be, but everything screamed for you to leave. You did not have time to stay and coax out a smile from him. Not while he has little-miss-beachy giggling away behind him, anyway.

So, you ran. You ran down the streets of Brooklyn and ignored his calling of your name and the dirty, betrayed feeling that radiated through your heart. You sprinted until you could sprint no more, falling right into your apartment, locking the door, and collapsing on your bed as memories of his stupid _stupid_ smile flashed before your tear-stained eyes.

The gravity of the situation dawned on you then, the tears falling to your comforter. Peter was moving on. He was okay again, but you simply did not fit in the picture anymore. He wanted to be better, but better did not include you.

He owed you nothing, however. You knew that, but deep down, you thought the Peter B. Parker you knew _would_ feel indebted in some way. You were the person who took care of him at his lowest. You thought you meant more to him than to hook up with a random stranger. But, you did not. Perhaps that is why he hid her from you. He probably felt guilty out of his mind for going behind your back just to get an easy release, but that guilt did not ease your pain. It also did not erase the image of that girl from your brain.

Peter probably loved her. Not in a serious way, but in the way any man would love a beautiful blonde in his bed. She looked lean and perky, and you imagined he probably loved that about her. She had to have turned him on immensely for him to bring her back home and risk your friendship. One look at you verses her could tell you why he chose to hook up with her and not you. You were _far_ from her. She was more what _he_ wanted. The more you thought about it, the more you realized this girl was a lot like Mary Jane, only blonde.

How could you ever compete with that? You were just Peter’s emotional support human, not a model.

Causing you to jump, you heard a steady pounding at your door. A moment’s pause told you it was Peter, his loud voice beckoning you to open up and let him in. Of course, you wanted nothing to do with him. Seeing him would just lead to seeing him with _her,_ and that was not something you could withstand at the moment. Plus, what if this was him going to cut you off? If he told you it was over and that he no longer needed your help, then what? How would you react? The mere words alone sent fear into your heart. You did not know if you could take it.

But, he did not leave. He kept pounding on the door and begging to speak to you, and as much as you wanted him to disappear and avoid the conversation, you knew him pounding any longer would start to alert neighbors. Frantically wiping your face, you trudged to the door and opened it. Peter tried to give you a small smile, but seeing the remaining tears on your face wiped it away completely.

“What do you want?”

“{Y/N}, please, let me in. I can explain.”

“Can you, now?” Folding your arms, you lean against your own door and huff. “Fine then, enlighten me. Tell me why that girl was in your apartment. I’m _dying_ to know.”

“Look, sweetheart-”

“None of that,” you barked back, eyes cold. It was his pet name for you, and normally it sent warm and gooey feelings into your chest. Now, it only made your stomach more sick. Peter seemed to acknowledge this and cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“{Y/N},” he began, more careful this time, “I’m sorry. I…I got lonely and…and we met at a bar, and she was so _eager_ -”

“Some apology you’ve got there, Spidey.” You rolled your eyes. “Why not tell me the pick-up lines you used on her, too? Did you tell her about your job and how it’s _so fulfilling?_ ”

Peter suddenly turned cold. You rarely saw him mad, but this was most definitely him fuming. Whatever you said, something within it had tripped a nerve within him, and any sense of his friendliness with you looked dead and gone. Truthfully, it scared you. “What do you want from me, okay? I got horny, I brought a girl home, and we had sex. End of story!”

Your eyes flickered up to his. “You…you had sex?”

“Yes,” Peter fired back, running his hands through his hair. “That’s typically what you do with a one-night stand, {Y/N}. We got drunk together, we had sex, and you walked in right after and now my head is spinning and you’re mad and…and I don’t know what to do! What was I supposed to do, {Y/N}?”

“I-I-”

“I’m lonely and it’s been so long,” he whined, pushing past you to get into your apartment. The conversation was much better suited for a private setting. You gently closed the door and watched Peter frustratedly pace around your living room. “You know why I wanted to fuck someone random? Our one-year anniversary of the divorce is coming up. One year, and she’s already moving forward. She’s living her _life_. Me?” Peter laughed, kicking a pillow that had been lying haphazardly on the floor near him. “I’m sitting around here eating my _weight_ in pizza and doing jack _shit_ to move forward. I thought maybe, _maybe_ , if I tried things out with someone else, it might make that _hurt_ less enough for me to put myself out there again. _That_ is why I fucked her, and _that_ is why I hid her from you. I was _embarrassed_ to show how fucking _insecure_ I am about my marriage and about everything my life _hasn’t_ been for the past year. Is that enough of an explanation for you, huh?”

Tears trickling down your cheeks, you gazed at your feet. “I-I’m sorry.”

Gripping at his hair, Peter fell to his usual spot on your couch. So many good memories on that couch with him faded into thin air as he took a seat, replaced and clouded by this one. Sniffling, you looked to him.

“I just…why didn’t you _talk to me_ if you were feeling lonely? I’m your friend.”

Peter threw his arm over his eyes. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to bother you with that.”

“Peter, I’ve been hanging around here for almost a year now,” you pressed, your voice straining to not shake. “If I was tired of helping you, I would have left much earlier. I want to help with whatever is bothering you. I always have.”

“As sweet as that is, you can’t exactly help horniness by listening.” It was intended to be a deflection, but your jealousy was not letting you give this up that easily. With a groan, you stomped your foot, getting his attention.

“What makes you think I am incapable of helping that, too?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not some childlike saint who has never been touched,” you snapped, “and we both know how sex works, Peter. If you were horny, you did not have to go out and find some rando to hook up with! I’m _right_ here!”

Silence filled the room for a moment before Peter shook his head. “No, no that’s off the table.”

Of course, this only infuriated you more. “Why? Is it because I’m not as pretty as her?”

“{Y/N}, don’t start this.”

You folded your arms and cocked your hip to the side. “Or is it because I’m not perky or super thin? Wait, is it because I don’t sound like the walking embodiment of Matel’s latest Barbie movie? Do you like that out of your hookups?”

“{Y/N}-”

“No, I get it,” you spit, pausing to laugh in spite of yourself. “It’s because you only like people who treat you like _shit!_ ”

Peter instantly stood, eyes fuming. “Shut up. Shut up _right now_.”

“That’s it,” you pressed on, sauntering around the room. “I showed you kindness and attention and that was too good for you! It reminded you of what you lost, and that sent you down this little lonely spiral until you just had to find someone destructive you could rub in the face of someone who actually gives a damn!”

_“You mean more to me than some cheap hookup, okay?”_

You stumbled back. Eyes meeting Peter’s, you could not process what he said. Did he just say that? Your mind buzzed as you watched him rub his face with his hands, clearly beating himself up for revealing such information to you. Cautious, you took a step forward and swallowed.

“What?”

“I did not, and will not, use you for sex because I care too much about you,” he spoke, slowly letting each word come out as he stared out in front of him. You wrapped your arms around your stomach instinctively, not sure how else to handle this information. He turned to watch you, his face softened, and had to look away as more guilt and embarrassment flickered through him.

“I’m not stupid, {Y/N}. I know you care about me,” he softly spoke, those amber eyes of his filling with tears he would not dare let spill. “You’re the only one that really does these days. It’s just that…sometimes, I have bad days. Really, _really_ bad days like this one, where I don’t want you to see me. I don’t want to show you how messed up I am, because you deserve better than that. You deserve not to waste your day watching a grown man cry over how he fucked up his own marriage.”

“It’s not a waste, Peter.”

“You say that, but I know it is,” he replied, sighing. “You’re a beautiful girl who could be doing so much with her life, but instead, you’re spending your nights here, or at my apartment, decaying on a couch with me as I pretend I’m okay. It’s not fair to you.”

“But-”

“It’s not fair,” he reiterated, firm. “So, on my bad days…I figure it’s better for me to go out and fuck some random girl and get those horrible emotions out of me before I see you. If you’re going to waste your time on me, the least I can do is try to get to a point where I at least can smile at you and not have that be fake.”

Another tear slipped down your face. “Peter, I…you’re never a burden. Not to me. I-I got upset earlier seeing her in your apartment because I thought you were replacing me. Like you didn’t need me anymore.”

“I would never-”

“I don’t know that,” you replied, biting your lip. Peter looked down, away from you. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was ashamed. “If we are sitting on the couch watching TV and you’re laughing, of course I’m not going to know something is wrong, because you look like you’re having a good time. The same applies for this. If you bring some girl home, of course I’m going to think I’m being replaced, because who else do you ever bring home? I can’t read minds, and I can’t tell what is going on in that head of yours when you do something like that. And I’m not going to stick around when I feel that way to hear explanations, because that scares me. Losing you, scares me,” you confessed. Peter’s head twitched to your direction.

“Really?”

Nodding, you gently joined him at his side on the couch. “That’s why I’ve stuck around for so long, Peter. You’re such a main part of my life that…that to have you no longer in it hurts me. I was so scared to hear your explanation because I thought you no longer wanted me around.”

“Of all of the people still in my life, I think I would be most hurt if I ever lost you.”

You met his eyes. “Seriously?”

He sighed and gave you a nod. “You’re constant. You’re someone I can count on. I don’t have people like that anymore and...and I…I love that about you.”

Warmth flooding to your cheeks, you looked back away. He, however, had other plans. You felt his hand reach to cup your cheek, turning you gently so that you faced him once more. You noticed his eyes flicker to your lips and watched in utter shock as he leaned in to kiss you.

You did not think about who last kissed those lips of his, nor did you think about the last person who grazed their fingers through his hair as you moved to do so yourself. He tasted like rum and some form of flavored coke, and his breath felt hot against you as he continued the kiss. That was all you could focus on. Well, that and the softness of his lips and the rough pads of his fingers against your cheek. Moments before, you two were at each other’s necks, and now, you wanted nothing more than to _kiss_ each other’s necks. Funny what a little bit of emotion and confessions could do.

As he pulled away, he made sure to keep your eyes locked with his. He searched you, trying to catch whatever feelings you were storing within you, until finally he could restrain himself no longer. With a caress of your cheek, he sighed and came out with it.

“I love you, {Y/N}.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Nodding, Peter dropped his hand from your face to your own hand, taking it into his. It felt warm, reassuring, and definitely like the hand of someone who was putting themselves on the line. It shook like a scared child in the dark, and you pitied him for it as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I hid from you, and I’m sorry I made it seem like I don’t take us seriously,” he whispered. “I don’t need some model I meet at a bar to make me happy, and I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression. Also,” he said with a small, nervous chuckle, “I’m sorry I ignored your takeout. It was Chinese, right?”

Giggling and wiping a tear away, you nodded. “Our favorite place, too. I should be really pissed at you for not taking me up on it, you know.”

“Understandable.”

“But I love you too much back to be mad.”

Peter’s eyes brightened. “You love me back?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “I’m sorry about how hard I pressed you and…and for the mean stuff I said earlier. I just…I’ve cared about you so long and I thought I was losing my chance to be the person there for you always.” You paused, reaching up to caress Peter’s cheek like he had done to you. “I _want_ to be there for you always. And…and if you’ll have me, I want to always be the one to love you.”

Practically twinkling, Peter chuckled and leaned against the couch. “Are you proposing to me?”

“I want a forever with you, but if you cheat me out of a formal proposal Parker, they’ll be asking why Spider-Man is walking with a limp for _weeks_.”

With a laugh, Peter brought you in for a hug. You breathed in the scent of his cologne and smiled, relishing the feeling of being close to him once more. “Noted.”

“I know the takeout is over at your place, but do you want to stay over here for dinner?” You look to him with hope in your eyes, watching him put together your request. “I can heat something up and we can play some video games or…or we could watch a movie! Whatever you want.”

Smiling fondly, Peter kisses your nose and leans back into his seat. “What do _you_ want to do?”

“Me?”

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’ve had it my way for too long?”

Well, you could not exactly say no to that. Getting up, you squeezed Peter’s hand before stepping over him to walk over to the kitchen. Instead of grabbing food, you grabbed a bottle of rum and started work on making drinks. Peter watched you curiously, waiting to see what you would come up with. He smiled, a genuine smile, as you returned to him with two rum and cokes. He took his drink and sipped, giving you a second to return to his side.

“Mmm, not bad.”

“I could tell you had some earlier,” you confessed, smirking beneath your lashes as his face grew red. “Anyway, I think we should do this. Let’s finish these two off, watch some ridiculous cheesy flick, and then…”

Peter watched you slyly, listening to you trail off and avoid him with your drink. His own smirk appearing, he set his drink down and wrapped his arm around you. “And then what?”

“And then, maybe, I might have you prove how much you really love me.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and you could feel him shift a bit more in your direction. He would never use you for sex, but if sex was on the table and you were now his… “Oh?”

Nodding, you clinked your drink against his. “Someone’s gotta go in that scary-ass basement of mine and change the filters for me, after all.”

His smile fell as yours blossomed. “What? But you said…that’s not fair! You tricked me into manual labor!”

You giggled and kissed his cheek, pulling away with a soft “pop” that made his cheeks burn. “Love you!”


End file.
